


Up From the Flames

by NotQuiteInsane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hunters International, Nepal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotQuiteInsane/pseuds/NotQuiteInsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora Wrightman won't admit it to anyone, but she's secretly glad to be out of the US Military. Her last six years in the Army was great and all, but she's ready for a change and that change involves a six month stint in Nepal to augment her Central Asian Studies major from the University of Iowa. What she expects to experience when she gets there with her friend and translator, Tobias Venne, and what she actually experiences are completely different. Instead of studying and interacting with the local culture, she's introduced to the local monster population through myths and stories. Without knowing it, her entire world view begins to flip and questions she's had for years begin to have answers. But all these stories are just that, stories, aren't they? Cora and Tobias are going to find out one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter. Not a whole lot of character dev. but it introduces sorta how the story is going to be told.  
> If you wanna check out the Hunters International project, check it out at http://huntersinternational.tumblr.com

_Journal 1:_

_Well, I'm headed off to Kathmandu. I'm on the plane, just left JFK. Toby is sitting next to me and being an irritating little bother, as usual. He keeps complaining about how he's not going to be able to use his gaming systems overseas because the chargers aren't adaptable or something? I don't even know. He's just being a bit of a bitch. Personally, I think he's just afraid of flying. Usually I’d make fun of him or at least throw out a few badly timed jokes, but he really doesn’t look like he’s in the mood. Hope he’s okay._

_He just glared at me. I should probably turn away so he can't tell what I'm writing._

_Oh. This is my official journal. I'll start it out correctly._

_This is the first entry in the account of my six month trip into Nepal for my cultural studies major at University of Iowa. My mission is to journey the area with my translator, Tobias Venne, in order to more fully understand the myths, religions, and culture of the region. It is my hope that I can bring back stories and information for others to use in their future research._

_That was official enough, right? Well, in any case, we're in the air, it's eleven at night, I'm tired and ending this entry. Good night._

 

 

                Cora put down her journal and looked over at the twenty-three year-old man sitting in the seat next to her. His window was closed and he was anxiously twiddling his thumbs. There wasn’t much more he could do with his fingers as his nails were already bitten down to the quick. There were small beads of sweat glistening on his neck and his eyes were determinedly shut.

                "Āpani ṭhika haẏa?" She asked slowly and carefully. Tobias just winced.

                "Your accent and pronunciation are awful, honey." He said in a high pitched whine.

                Cora nodded. "That's why you're the translator." There was a pause. "You didn't answer the question."

                "I hate flying, you know that."

                "You watch too much TV. Lost isn't actually a thing, you know? The plane isn't going to crash." Cora busied her hands by putting her journal in her Patagonia backpack.

                Tobias squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and tightened his seatbelt, even though the fasten seatbelt sign had just gone off. “Don’t say that word! You’re going to give me an aneurism.”

                Shaking her head, Cora just shoved her backpack under the seat in front of her and forcibly turned in her seat. It twisted her back a tad uncomfortably, but it wasn’t unbearable.  “Tobias.”

                “Mmrph.” His eyes were still closed.

                “Tobias.”

                No answer.

                “Toby Ben.”

                The grumble came from beneath hands clasped to his face. “What?”

                “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m here and we’re on to one of the greatest adventures of our lives. In about twelve hours we’ll be where we’re supposed to be. Do you want me to tell you a story?” Cora reached out hesitantly and took one of Tobias’s hands from his face, holding it in hers. He opened the eye that had been uncovered and stared at her with bright blue intent. The freckles were stark against his white face and his sandy hair was in complete disarray from his constantly fiddling fingers.

                “Which story?”

                “Any one you want.” She smiled and took his other hand lightly. “I’ll even let you close your eyes for a bit if you make sure that you don’t interrupt me.”

                Tobias nodded jerkily and took a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders.

                Cora released his hands and pulled her backpack out from the seat before her. A thick notebook, chock full of mismatched papers, slid free from the various and sundry things the bag held. It was a different notebook than the one she’d been writing in before, and much more used. Whereas the journal she’d bought especially for this trip was leather bound, the older notebook was actually two sewn binding lab notebooks superglued together.

The paper cover was so layered with duct and electrical tape that the original speckled black and white was barely visible through multi-colored wrappings. The papers that had been stapled and glued and sewn in were in various states of disarray. There was notebook paper with coffee stains, paper vellum fraying at the edges, and a few napkins, all completely scrawled over with cramped writing in about seven different colors of pen and smudged pencil lead. It looked like it’d been through a war, which it actually had. In this notebook were all of the stories that Cora had collected during her four year deployment in the midst of the so-called “War Against Terror” in the Middle East. It went with her everywhere and she never let it out of her sight.

“Surprise me,” Tobias said, looking at her with a hint of eagerness. He always loved the stories.

Cora turned to a story near the back, one she’d heard near the end of her deployment from a man who swore up and down that it was true. He’d heard it from a friend of a friend’s cousin’s internet friend or something of the like.

“Alright. This is just called, _Wendigo_.” She started to read.

“Grand Junction, Colorado wasn’t really a weird town. It was a good town, to be completely honest. People did their work, they went hunting and hiking in the surrounding woods, and they took care of their families. There wasn’t really much to tell, but one day, a boy went missing on a camping trip. The park rangers of Lost Creek Trail Ranger Station couldn’t find the body or even much trace of the boy, Tommy, having been there at all. The only proof he’d been out there was on the word of his sister, Haley, who he’d been sending videos to every so often to reassure her of his safety.

“Now, nobody had any idea how to go about trying to find Tommy. Most people around town just thought he’d run off, but Haley was determined to find her brother. So when two park rangers came along with questions in regard to the disappearance, she wasn’t exactly tight lipped about what had happened. She showed them the last video and watched as their faces darkened. It almost seemed as if they knew what had happened to her brother. But Haley couldn’t get a word out of the two men about the incident. They simply claimed that their investigation was still ongoing and she would be informed of her progress. So Haley straight up informed them that she and her little brother, Ben, were going out into the woods the next morning with a guide in hopes of finding Tommy.

“And they did. The two men, however, made it their business to accompany the two on their trip. They carried heavy duffel bags and wouldn’t let Haley, Ben, or Roy, the guide, look in them. They also weren’t dressed like the park rangers they’d claimed to be. Jeans and biker boots were hardly the apparel one would expect from rangers going out into back country. It was odd, but Haley knew that they were going to need help locating her brother, so she went along with it.

“A little ways into the woods, the shorter of the two rangers started to ask questions. Fed up with the bravado, Roy grabbed the man and looked him dead in the eye. Picking up a stick from the ground, he triggered the bear trap in front of them, tangled up in moss and ferns. It would have incapacitated the ranger had Roy not set it off first.

“’Watch where you’re going there… Ranger,” Roy said gruffly, shoving on ahead as he shoved his rifle strap higher up on his shoulder. He left the shorter man behind as he trekked on without a backwards glance. The woods swallowed up the taller ranger, Ben, and Roy as Haley held the other ranger back.

“’What are you doing? You didn’t bring any provisions and you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re sure as hell not a ranger.’ She was angry. There was no reason for the false information. All the bull was just getting in the way of her finding her brother and she was not willing to put up with that.

The man, Dean, he said his name was, admitted the truth. He and his brother Sam were just looking for their father. He grinned and pulled out a bag of M&M’s. Seemingly, those were the only ‘provisions’ that Dean needed.

“Roy separated from the group as they reached Black Water Ridge and Sam and Dean looked notably worried. The fact that the group was splitting up was as bad to them as the fact that there were no birds or crickets or any animals at all making noise among the trees. The only sound was the wind sliding through the branches, sending staccato clicks and rustling sighs out through the area. Nevertheless, they plunged on ahead, keeping Ben close by with Dean and Sam taking lead and sweep respectively.

“A yell from Roy alerted them to the location of the campsite later on in the day. Running to the location, they found tents ripped and equipment strewn all over the ground. There had clearly been some kind of attack. It looked like bear, but there weren’t any tracks to prove it. Haley dropped her bag and yelled out for her brother, walking out to the edge of the campsite, but Sam followed quickly after and laid a hand on her arm.

“’Something might still be out there,’ was his only explanation. The hard set of his jaw and the suspicion in his eyes told Haley not to argue. As Sam walked off after Dean, she continued her search around the campsite for signs of her brother or anything that could tell of his whereabouts. She crouched down and picked up the satellite phone Tommy had been using to send them videos. The screen was crushed and gobs of dried blood still stuck to the plastic casing.

“Dean knelt down next to her and said, ‘There’s still a chance that he might be alive.’ They both knew that they were thinking about different people.

“Screams broke out in the distance, coming from somewhere beyond the campsite, deeper into the woods. In a rush, they all made for the location of the noise, but when they arrived there was no sign of anyone. There was no blood, no sign of a struggle, and no evidence that Tommy had been there, only trees swaying in the light breeze and a complete lack of bird song.”

Cora let the notebook drop a little and looked over at Tobias. “You want me to keep going?”

Tobias scowled and clutched his balled-up sweatshirt to his chest. “What is it? What’s after Haley and the rest? Is it the, what was the name of the story, a Werdig?”

“Wendigo. And you’ll just have to wait and see.” Cora stretched her arms out, nearly taking Tobias’s head as she did so. “Oops, sorry.” She undid her seatbelt and made to get up, letting her notebook fall to the side and close, but was stopped when a nail-bitten hand shot across the gap.

“No, you gotta finish the story, girl.” He looked much calmer than when she’d started the story, but the nervous glances had started back up almost as soon as she paused. Stories were how he coped with the trauma in his life. They were his crutch and he wasn’t ready to walk (or fly) without the current one to uphold his psyche.

Cora sighed and sat back down, picking the notebook back up and flipping to the correct page. She continued on, throwing a smiling glance over at Tobias.

“’Everybody back to the camp,’ Sam said in a low voice and they jogged back without a word. Their packs were all gone from where they’d left them on the ground and there was no sign of anything else having been there. Haley screamed in frustration and Sam pulled Dean aside.

“’Well, there’s one thing I know for sure,’ Haley said, mouth set in a thin line. ‘There is no way that this thing is a bear. I don’t care what the camp looks like.’ She looked nervously around at the trees and ferns towering above them. The forest and the entirety of Black Water Ridge seemed so much more threatening than it had just hours before. The visions that come with fear were starting to worm their way into Haley’s mind, making her see moving shapes at the edges of her vision. She listened hard, but all she could hear was the indistinct talking of the two brothers on the other side of a stand of trees.

“When they came back into the ruined campsite, Sam’s face was hard and set. ‘We need to get out of here. This thing is smart. It’s cut off all communication and taken our supplies.’

“’Yeah,’ Dean added. ‘And this thing is a good hunter during the day. At night, it’s near unstoppable.’

“Haley was insistent, though. ‘I need to find my brother. We’re already out here and I can’t just leave him. He might still be alive!’ She glared at the two as Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look.

“’Well, if we’re going to stay the night, we’re going to need to dig in and protect ourselves,’ Dean said, starting his way back across the camp.

“The rest of the day was spent marking out the boundaries of the clearing and gathering wood for a fire. Luckily, Dean had his lighter on him even though Roy had lost his with his pack. By the time the fire was up and roaring, night was beginning to fall and the trees were already surrounded by uneven shadows. The absence of bird song and insects was even more noticeable now that they were all listening for it. It was only when Sam and Dean started carving strange symbols into the ground and trees that Roy finally asked what they were.

“’Protection,’ Dean informed him coolly. “The Wendigo can’t pass over them.’

“’Sorry, Wendigo?’ Roy clutched his rifle close and looked around suspiciously.

“’You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just know that these will keep it out of the camp and keep it from skinning and eating you alive.’ Dean’s tense grin was more than enough to convince Haley and Ben of the danger, but Roy was still scowling and incredulous.

“He pointed to the shape on the ground that looked like a sun. ‘What’s that supposed to be, anyway?’

“Dean tossed the stick he’d been using to mark out the shape in the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans. ‘Anasazi symbol. And as I said, the Wendigo can’t pass over them.’ Without any further chatter, he walked over to Sam, who was sitting at the edge of camp, staring out into the distance. The two stayed there for quite some time, conversing about whatever it was they were going to do next. At least, that’s what Haley guessed they were doing. She couldn’t hear them over the sound of the crackling fire and Ben’s worried comments, but when screams for help rang out through the trees, she was on her feet in an instant, little brother clutched to her side. Sam and Dean were there in a second.

“Drawing a handgun from somewhere, Dean said, ‘It’s just trying to draw us out. Nobody move.’

“The yells and screams stopped, but that’s when the growling began. A shape flitted between the trees, slender and fast as dark lightning. It seemed to be on all sides of them and when Roy fired a shot off, the growls just increased in volume. Another two shots rang out and a whine followed.

“’I hit it!’ Roy yelled as he ran out of the clearing and after the creature.

“’Roy!’ Dean cursed and looked at Haley and Ben. ‘Stay right there.’ He and Sam chased after Roy and the Wendigo, but just as they got to the place where he should have been, all noise stopped and they lost all trace of both figures. The only trace of sound was the faint shivering of leaves above them and the twigs cracking under their boots. No matter where Sam shined the beam from his flashlight, there was no sign of the guide or the monster. It was with dread that they hiked back to the campsite to break the news to Haley and Ben.

“The rest of the night was a silent vigil, keeping ears and eyes open in hopes of detecting the Wendigo before it made a meal out of any of the remaining party members. They took it in turns to sleep, not getting more than two hours at a time before waking up in cold sweats, hearing Roy’s screams as he was dragged off to God knows where. The only one who seemed not to sleep was Sam. He sat on the edge of camp the entire night, alternating between staring out into the trees and staring at the leather bound notebook that rested on his knees.

“The next morning, Sam walked back into camp proper with a sigh. ‘So we’ve got half a chance in the daylight,’ he said tiredly. ‘And I, for one, wanna kill this evil son of a bitch.’

“Wendigo, they explained, was a Cree Indian word for Evil That Devours. Each Wendigo was once a human, hundreds of years ago, that had to turn to cannibalism to survive harsh conditions or harsh weather. Over the years of eating human flesh, an insatiable hunger grew inside of them until nothing was left of their humanity. They were wicked fast, strong and immortal from their diet and the one thing they could do was survive. The only reason that Tommy, or Roy for that matter, could still be alive was because Wendigos knew how to store their food. They would keep their prey alive in somewhere dark and inconspicuous in order to continue their feed over a long time. Between feeds they would hibernate, but right now, the Wendigo that was out in those woods was anything but sleeping. Knives and guns wouldn’t work. The only thing that would was fire.

“The group moved off, Dean toting a bottle filled with flammable liquid and his lighter. They searched for signs for an hour or two before Sam pointed out bloody claw marks on the tree trunks above them. The trail they could see ran off further into the woods and all of the sudden, Sam let out an incredulous laugh.

“’I knew these prints were too clean.’ He backed up and Ben and Haley came closer in. A shape flashed past on their left and the four crowded together against the huge tree behind them. On their right, the Wendigo moved again and then disappeared. Something crackled above them and a shape fell from the tree, hitting Haley and knocking her over as she screamed. On the ground lay sprawled the remains of Roy, clearly dead from a broken neck.

“They ran. Tree branches whipped their faces and plants caught at their heels, threatening to topple them over with every stride they took across the uneven ground. Ben fell and skidded along the pine needles of the forest floor, but Sam dragged him to his feet, unwilling to let anyone get left behind. Dean and Haley, however, were out of their sight by the time they were running again and within seconds they heard her scream. When Sam and Ben got there, though, there was no sign of either Dean or Haley.

“’Where did they go?’ Ben was clearly terrified. ‘And why is Roy dead? I thought you said that it kept its alive!”

“’It probably killed him because Roy shot him and it was pissed,’ Sam muttered, looking around for tracks or broken branches to signal a direction in which they should go.

“’Hey, over here.” Ben beckoned from a little further off. When Sam walked over and looked down, he grinned at the trail of multicolored M&M’s.

“’Better than breadcrumbs,’ he admitted.

“They followed Dean’s candy trail even further into the woods, trees getting closer and closer together, before finding the entrance to an abandoned mine shaft. Giant letters over the boarded up mouth of the tunnel proclaimed NO ENTRANCE PERMITTED with an eerie finality. Another sign was tacked up on the wood that said something about toxic material, but Sam wasn’t really paying attention. He was more worried about his brother. A single board had been ripped aside and Sam climbed inside, followed warily by Ben.

“The tunnel was dark and damp, the floor covered with rough gravel that crunched under their feet as they slowly made their way deeper into the labyrinth. Ben held his hand up to his mouth and nose as the smell of dead flesh and rotting meat reached their nostrils. Just then, a shape emerged from the light of another tunnel and Sam pulled Ben back, keeping him silent with a hand. The Wendigo peered around before passing on. Ben gave a little whimper in the back of his throat and Sam looked at him worryingly. There was only so much a kid, even a teenager, could handle of this.

“As they continued down the tunnel, something creaked under their feet. Sam looked down to see a soggy wooden plank bending below them and just had time to let out the first part of a swear word before it broke and left them unsupported to fall down a shaft and further into the earth.

“When they landed, they came face to face with several skulls, meatless and white, on the floor of the cave. Ben squawked and scrambled backwards, but Sam got him to his feet and they looked around. In one corner, hanging moss obliterated all view of anything that might have been beyond. Behind was another passage leading deeper into the maze and Sam could see even more skulls and bone fragments through the open space. Just enough light was filtering in from a hole in the roof that he could see around the cavern, but blocking the light was—

“’Dean!’ Sam gasped and ran to his brother, strung up by the wrists, leaving Ben to stare at the surroundings.  He cut his brother down and let his arms down slowly, allowing blood to circulate back into the extremities. Ben rushed forward and did the same for Haley. Each sibling let their counterpart sag against the nearby wall to catch their breath and loosen some of the soreness out of their shoulder muscles.

“Looking around, however, Haley saw a familiar shape and surged to her feet, dragging her body across the cavern to find Tommy, hung up as they had been. Tears fell down her cheeks as she looked at the dangling form of her brother. She reached out a hand to touch his face and he responded immediately, taking in a huge breath of air and startling her back a step.

“’Cut him down,” she ordered and Sam rushed to comply. Behind them, Dean looked at a discarded bag on the floor, recognizing it as one of Tommy’s from the campsite. Without waiting for permission, he dug around in it, searching for something to help them. Grinning he pulled out two flare guns.

“Sam grinned back. ‘Those will work.’

“The five began their limping process out of the cave but before they got so much as forty feet, a growl echoed through the tunnels around them. They looked at each other in despair, but Dean knew what he had to do. He told his little brother to get the rest of the group out of there and went running, yelling, ‘It’s chow time you freakin’ bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!’ When the sounds of his distraction faded into the distance, Sam grabbed Haley, Ben, Tommy and started dragging them in a direction that he thought would lead to the surface.

“In another part of the mine, Dean was still yelling, but when nothing came after them, he panicked, realizing that the Wendigo had gone after the escapees instead. He sprinted back through the tunnels, following the sounds of rabid growling and hissing. He rounded a corner to find the looming shape of the Wendigo advancing on the others and stopped to take aim. ‘Hey, you!’ The Wendigo turned and he pulled the trigger of the flare gun, sending the shot straight into the monster’s torso. It let loose an ear piercing shriek as a burning fire began to eat it from the inside out. Within seconds it was all aflame, lighting the area with its sickly glow. When it was nothing more than ashes on the tunnel floor, Dean looked at Sam and smiled before blowing smoke from the end of the weapon.

“In a hazy fog of adrenaline and the need to get the hell out of there, they managed to drag Tommy up and out of the tunnels and to the surface. It took them a few hours and more than a few stops, but cell reception was finally in range. A call to the Ranger Station summoned a rescue team and they were back in civilization by nightfall, getting injuries tended to and finally able to take a breather after the fight.

“Ben and Haley climbed into the ambulance with their brother and as Haley looked back, she caught Dean’s hazel eyes with hers and knew that it was finally over. She smiled as she caught his words to Sam before the ambulance door was slammed shut by a paramedic.”

Cora grinned as she read the last line and closed the notebook with a thump.

“Wait, what did he say?” Tobias looked up at her from where he’d slumped down in his seat. “You can’t just end it like that!”

“Yes I can. They closed the ambulance doors, Haley still staring at Sam and Dean leaning against the hood of their car, a black impala. And that’s the end.”

“You know,” Tobias commented, “Your stories are always great, and then you go and finish them with ‘And that’s the end,’ and it just ruins the whole epicness of the telling. I could even deal with you not having good enough last words for Dean to have said, but then you just go and say that.” He shook his head with a sigh and then smiled shyly. “Thanks though, Cora. It was good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled back. “The Non-Com that I heard it from swore that it was true too. He knows that some of the details probably got lost over the multiple tellings, but he said that as much as he told me was true as the sky being blue.” Cora carefully put the notebook back into her bag and shimmied down in her seat, which was now reclined as far as it would go, and swiveled her head to look at her traveling companion. “Toby, you should try to sleep. It’s late and we have a long day ahead of us.”

He nodded, holding back a yawn. “I feel ya.” He scrunched down in his seat as well and put his sweatshirt against the closed window, leaning against the wall of the plane in preparation for sleep. “Good night Cora Lynn Wrightman.”

The two were silent for some time, but as Tobias’s breathing transitioned into light snores, Cora said from memory in a low voice, “Haley could have sworn he heard Dean say with a small shake of his head,” she paused. “She could have sworn she heard him say, happiness in his voice, ‘Man, I hate camping.’”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update this every other Sunday, but my school life is a little hectic. I will never go a month without a new chapter. That's a promise I will do my best to keep.

                The grey dawn sun was just trickling through the thick glass of scattered windows when Cora awoke. Most everyone was still asleep, though there were a few kids with ear buds in, listening to music or watching videos on their iPods, trying to drown out the constant noise of the jet engines. Their parents were mostly asleep or reading ratty travel guides on Nepal, Kathmandu or the Kathmandu Valley. Cora had a most of her papers saved on her laptop that was stowed safely in her backpack, so she hadn't thought a guide book would be strictly necessary.

                The kid that had bumped her elbow on their way past and knocked her out of her shallow sleep was almost at the end of the aisle as Cora carefully unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up, careful not to jostle Tobias as he slept. His sand colored hair was in disarray from his disturbed sleep. She supposed he wasn't doing so well with the plane ride, but she was happy that he'd at least managed to get some shut-eye, no matter how light. As she watched, flickers of something like discomfort would flit across his face and he'd shift a little in his seat, as though trying to get comfortable, though he was definitely asleep.

                Cora felt one side of her mouth twitch up in a grimace. This wouldn't be the last plane ride of theirs during this next jaunt of their lives, but he was the one who insisted on coming as her translator instead of letting her just hire one while she was there. His reasons were that he didn't trust her alone in another country, that he thought she'd probably start a war or something, but she suspected it was just that he'd miss her if she was gone. The thought made the grimace change into a slight smile as she stripped off her sweatshirt and dumped it on her seat.

                Going up the aisle was easier on this plane than it had been on the military planes she'd ridden. She was used to there being packs in the aisles and people lying on top of those packs. It was usually easier to pretend the plane was a jungle-gym and just climb over seats rather than walk down the aisles, but here was different. Everything was clear and the only thing she had to worry about in the low light was tripping over an outstretched leg of some sleeping passenger.

                She made it to the bathroom alright and waited for the "Occupied" sign to slide to the green and for a middle aged, dark skinned man to slide out of the little   area with a muttered apology. Cora nodded curtly and gave a twitch of a smile.

                Upon entering the cubicle, she slid the lock into place and looked in the mirror and sighed at her appearance. Her short, bright blonde hair was all over the place and it was a futile attempt as she worked to get it into a somewhat manageable state. When her bangs were in place, she pressed on the lever to get some water and splashed it up onto her tanned face before examining her features. Liquid brown eyes, blonde lashes and brows. The tip-tilted nose and thin lips were all her dad's but the rest were hers.

                Uncomfortably hot in the small space, she touched the scarf at her neck, hesitant whether to take it off or leave it on. It was blue. Her mom, Jenna Wrightman, had gotten it for her the first day she was back from her tour in Iraq. Cora could never quite forget the look on her mother's face when she'd come home different than when she'd left. No matter how hard Jenna had tried to hide it, she was distressed and angry about what she saw in and on her oldest child, her only daughter. It was still difficult for the twenty-eight year old to admit she was scared what she'd seen in her mom's face that day. She'd seen disgust and that wasn't an easy thing to forget. So, gritting her teeth, Cora lifted the looped linen over her head and took a long hard look at herself in the mirror.

                On the left-hand side, from her collarbone up to the jawline was a thick, ugly scar. In some places it was just an angry red line, but in others, the skin was distorted and puffy, a constant reminder of some of the most strained years of her life. It was the one flaw she could never overcome and so she hid it. She hid it like she hid the memories of how she'd gotten it, the recovery and how her mother had looked at her when she saw the mark.

                Reaching up, she let her fingers drag over the puckered skin and felt her bottom lip tremble. She didn't let herself feel bad. It had been four and a half years since then and she didn't think about it. She didn't _let_ herself think about it because if she did, everything would come rushing back. Six years had been enough of her life to devote and she was done with it. She was about to start on a new part of her life. She was traveling through the air towards the part of her life that she would be happy to remember, unlike her military service.

                That wasn’t to say that she wanted to forget everything about her time in the Middle East. Some parts of it had changed her for the better, but it was those opposing parts that were digging at her chest as she fought to push them back. Whether it was the small amount of sleep she’d gotten, the altitude at which she was currently flying, or the sudden realization that she hadn’t been this close to the Middle East in more than four years, her head was woozy and things she hadn’t thought about in years were resurfacing.

                Another splash of water to the face seemed to help a little and Cora tried to listen to the incessant, yet soothing, drone of the plane’s twin engines through the tiny cabin. She watched as the moisture slid down her chin and across the scar, washing the memories away. With a sigh she let her fist thump down on the plastic countertop and then crouched down, staring at the brushed steel cabinet doors that no doubt hid the plumbing of the sink and more bathroom supplies.

                Taking deep breaths in and deep breaths out, Cora strained to keep her heart from thudding out of her chest. Why was she like this all the sudden? She never got like this. It was Toby’s job to freak out and have panic attacks and think way too much about the past. Cora was the one who could always move past things, but for some reason looking in that stupid mirror just three feet away on this damn plane with Eastern Europe passing under them was bringing back things she could certainly do without.

                The cool water that was still dripping down her skin was starting to feel even colder, chilling her skin and raising goose bumps on her neck. Next to her head was the paper towel dispenser and she quickly dried her face with one of the thin papers.  She let out a shuddering breath and let her forehead fall forward until it was resting against the cool metal. It grounded her as much as anything could at this altitude and she was faintly grateful for the peace of the early morning before children started screaming and wanting to know when the plane was going to land.

                A knock came at the door and a quiet, female voice said, “Miss? Are you alright in there?”

                The short huff of laughter that came from Cora’s lips was close enough to hysterical, it seemed, that it warranted further intrusion.

                “Miss, could you please open the door? “ The voice sounded equal parts concerned and resigned, which should have been some sort of contradiction, but it worked.

                Knees shaking slightly, Cora pulled herself back up, using the counter to regain her balance. It was a quick thing to grab her scarf and pull it back around her neck, hiding the majority of that ugliest part of her before she pulled back the silver knob and folded the door back. It revealed a short Caucasian woman in the uniform of a flight attendant, brown hair pulled around to the back of her neck in a ponytail, makeup immaculate, despite it being hour eight of the flight. She looked like she was in her early forties, lines creasing her face at the corners of the mouth and eyes, skin a little spotty underneath the layers of foundation she was clearly wearing.

                “Sorry,” Cora mumbled and started to push past. The attendant caught her arm and Cora stopped instantly, heart pounding as she looked down at the hand. Every nerve in her body was telling her to break contact and get back to her things, pick up her story journal and lose herself in the words and stories recorded there. It was an actual struggle to keep her other hand from coming up and breaking some of those fingers, but she managed it.

                “Are you alright? I saw you go in there about ten minutes ago and I heard some noises. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” The resignation had drained from her voice, leaving only concern. Cora guessed that it was because now she had a face to assign her worries to.

                Cora pushed a smile onto her face and pulled her arm free with no small amount of effort. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just some leftover anxiety about flying.” The lie came smoothly. “I’m just going to go back to my seat now, if that’s okay.”

                The flight attendant, whose nametag read “Angelica” gave a small smile in return and said, “Oh, that’s quite alright. Plenty of people get nervous about flying even if they don’t think they will. If you need anything, just come ask, alright?”

                Without looking back, Cora made her way back to aisle 28, seat B and sat heavily next to Tobias, whose eyes flickered open blearily. It took him a second to struggle into a sitting position and he spent a few minutes just blinking around in confusion, like he couldn’t figure out quite where he was. It was a little cute, really, seeing his nose wrinkle up and forehead crease.  He sniffed once or twice and pulled his black sweatshirt back on, some band name scrawled up one sleeve in white. Cora had tried to convince him to leave the damn thing behind, but he’d refused, stating a profound sentimental attachment to it.

                “Mmmm,” he said sleepily and stretched out his compressed back, wincing when several vertebrae cracked. “Morning, I guess?”

                Cora humphed and cracked her neck, turning to the right slightly to get a better look at him. “Your hair’s all fucked up.”

                “You’re swear-y today. Did someone spill water on you or something?” Tobias carefully reached out a hand and gathered up a drop of water that was still on the side of her face and wiped it on his dark jeans.

                She shook her head and pulled her backpack forward from underneath the seat. Unzipping it loudly, she pulled out her Nepal journal and flipped it open to the next clean page before pulling out a black ballpoint pen.

_Journal 2:_

_Planes suck. I don’t care if this is supposed to be an official journal, I’m writing whatever I fucking want._

                She ended the sentence with an emphatic scribble to get her point across better.

                _We’ve got about two hours left of the flight and all I want to do is find a punching bag and break it. Honestly, a tree would do, I’ve got my wraps in my luggage. But no. Instead I get to be stuck on this flying claustro-fuck with only one person who knows not to_ grab _me._

Cora stopped and dropped the pen in the crease of the leather-bound journal, taking a deep breath in through her nose and expelling it through her mouth. Her eyes were closed so she jumped when she felt a light tap on her arm. Tobias was proffering a plastic wrapped peppermint candy with a half-smile.

                “It’s okay, Cora. We’ll land in two hours and then you can punch something.” Tobias was still holding out the mint. She took it and pulled the two ends, watching it twirl open and feeling her head spin as she smelled the soothing scent of peppermint.

                “I thought I was supposed to be the one comforting _you_ about being on a plane,” she grumbled as she popped the candy into her mouth. “That was only, like, seven hours ago.”

                “Call it payback if you want,” Tobias told her, sucking on a peppermint of his own. “These things aren’t half bad, you know.”

                “Those are mine. I gave them to you so I wouldn’t eat them all in the first week. “

                “Well, they’re getting eaten one way or another, hon.”

                The two sat in silence as the engines roared on either side of them and people began to wake. Cora started to doodle in her journal, a series of interlocking curls forming into something that, when she recognized it, was quickly crossed out and forgotten about. Unbeknownst to her, Toby had been staring at the doodle, chewing silently on his lower lip, stopping only when it began to bleed sluggishly.

                When the announcement eventually came on over the PA, most everyone on the plane was awake, talking in hushed tones, and Cora and Tobias were both in varying states of discomfort. Cora’s mind was on the past, whilst Tobias’s remained on that seemingly harmless doodle that had been X’ed out in blue ballpoint pen. Even as the wheels of the plane trundled to a standstill on the tarmac of KTM airport, the two were silent. They filed off of the plane with their carry-ons and started walking.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I'm actually a terrible person. It's been, like, five weeks since I got a chapter out. I'd blame school, but I'm honestly just lazy. Don't kill me please.

                Kathmandu was as busy and beautiful as Cora had imagined it. People on foot, riding bikes, in rickshaws, and cruising in beaten up cars crowded the roads as she and Tobias rode in the back of a musty taxi towards Tribhuvan University. They’d landed at the busy airport about two hours ago, but the baggage had taken forever to get off the plane, so they’d sat around for an excessive amount of time. Tobias had actually been productive and had gone to exchange currency, even though Cora told him the exchange rates at airports were crap. His face when he came back half an hour later, a mix of righteous indignation and disappointed resignation, had showed her that he hadn’t believed her but was now a firm convert into the “never exchanging money at an airport ever again” club.

                “Satisfied?”

                Tobias had scowled. “No, not really. Pretty sure this is the equivalent of about forty bucks. I gave the guy fifty.” He’d held up a bundle of banknotes and then shoved them into his jeans pocket along with his passport.

                “What’s the exchange rate right now? About 75 rupees to the dollar? And you’ve got what?”

                “About thirty-four hundred.” He hadn’t bothered to take it back out of his pocket. He’d counted it multiple times already.

                “So you’re fine. It was about a five dollar loss.”

                Tobias had just squinted at her for a couple seconds. “I will never understand why you went into cultural studies instead of math. You’re a human calculator.”

                Cora’d shrugged. “Just because I’m good at math doesn’t mean I like it very much. Anyway, basic calculations are all I’ve got. I barely passed basic calculus. Stuff just doesn’t make sense to me.”

                But now that they were in a car and able to relax without worrying about watching for the carts carrying their baggage or going through customs or anything, they looked out at the city in amazement. The aggressiveness of everyone on the street was incredible to Cora, who’d for the most part grown up in non-crowded parts of the Midwest. Tobias was a little more used to the congestion having been raised in California, but the narrowness of some of the streets and the claustrophobic feeling he was getting was completely different.

                Their taxi driver wasn’t very sociable, despite Tobias’s attempts to converse and eventually he gave up. At that point, they were somewhere along what Cora guessed to be the Bagmati River which ran through Kathmandu. It was fed from the Himalayas and the water was grungy looking but she wasn’t repulsed by it, more just curious about the green swathed areas just past what she recognized as the Advanced College of Engineering and Management. She couldn’t figure out if people were attempting to farm the land or if they were just letting it go wild. It didn’t help that she was on the wrong side of the car to look and that Tobias was blocking most of the window with his stupid head.

                But eventually they reached Tribhuvan University and paid the taxi driver about 650 rupees. Cora had just sort of stared at Tobias in amazement as they’d grabbed their baggage (three suitcases and two duffel bags) and started the trek to the Admin building. Finally he'd asked what was wrong and Cora had told him that they’d just paid under eight dollars for a twenty five minute taxi ride. He hadn’t gotten it, but she continued to shake her head and the amazingly low fare as they approached their destination. The central office was a gorgeous piece of architecture, red, white and grey stucco with immaculate gardens surrounding. A few students could be seen going in and out of the building, chatting with each other in Nepali or looking through papers they’d just picked up.

                One girl, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, approached them and asked in accented but near perfect English, “Are you lost?”

                “Mmmm, nope,” Tobias replied. “As long as this is central office, I think we’re not lost.”

                The girl nodded and continued on, throwing occasional glances back at them over her shoulder.

                “What was that?” Cora frowned at Tobias as they approached the front steps.

                “Don’t know. It is the middle of the week and it’s not exactly a normal time for move in. Maybe she thought we were confused as to where we were lodging or something.” He shrugged and dropped his duffle and two suitcases off to the side of the door. “Mind waiting here while I find someone who knows where we’re supposed to be at?”

                “So we _are_ lost?”

                “Not quite,” Tobias laughed. “Just watch the stuff, would you?”

                “Yeah, whatever.” Cora dropped her duffle and sat on her suitcase as Tobias opened the wooden door and walked into the interior of the building. She could feel the air conditioned coolness of hit her across the face and suddenly realized how hot she was. Her coat was making her sweat even though it couldn’t be more than seventy degrees Fahrenheit out. (She did the math quickly and got around twenty degrees Celsius out of her other approximation.) Wrapping it around her waist, she raised her face up to the sun and smiled. This was exactly her kind of weather, sunny and not to warm but not cold, slight wind.

                As she sat waiting for Tobias, she watched other students wander around. A few sat on the green grass on the other side of the drive, papers out and studying, just like any other campus she’d ever been on. To be fair, she’d only really ever been on two for any prolonged amount of time, UW Madison and UI Iowa City, but she’d visited others during her teenage years with her mom before she’d decided to join the armed forces. She’d grown up in the greater Madison area, in Middleton, and seeing as campus was spread out over downtown, she’d seen enough of college life that she knew she didn’t want to stay in Madison for college. After being in Madison, the family had moved to Platteville, which was another UW town. They’d lived in Iowa City until she was five years old, so it seemed like an okay choice for college. She’d kept it in mind during her time in the Army.

                After her tour in Iraq, she’d applied and gotten into UI Iowa City and had met Tobias in Rhetoric, one of her first classes. They had the same general major path, both being in the cultural studies area so they’d seen a lot of each other, though they’d not really gotten along until junior year when Tobias had turned twenty-one and they’d ended up on the same pub crawl. It had been some ridiculous zombie theme and they’d both thought they were the worst dressed until they’d seen the other. They’d started hanging out and eventually decided to do this research trip together around November of their senior year. It’d taken a lot of planning but they’d done it.

                So now Tobias was inside trying to find their research advisor who also had their room assignment and other information. Tribhuvan University had consented to host them while they were in the city, giving them access to research materials, a certain number of classes per month and a room to keep things in. It also had two beds for while they were staying, but Cora didn’t expect that they’d be using them much. They had some equipment being shipped in that they hadn’t wanted to bring with them on the plane, including a tent and more camping equipment. Cora really didn’t expect that they’d be in Kathmandu much. She wanted to spend as much of this year outside of urban areas as possible.

                Tobias came back out with a dark skinned, white haired man who introduced himself as Ankit Pahari, professor of Nepalese culture and native of Dharan, a city to the southeast. He’d come to Kathmandu when he was offered the job as professor and also for the convenience of the international airport as he did a lot of traveling both to lecture and to do anthropological work in other countries. His manner was courteous, but Cora suspected that if it had been just she and Professor Pahari, the conversation might have been much shorter and entirely more one-sided. As it was, he gave most of his answers to Tobias while only occasionally glancing at Cora, who was the one asking the questions.

                Cora exchanged a carefully schooled look with Tobias. She’d honed it in her Army time. Close to none of the men she’d been stationed with had had any respect for her at first. They’d made sexist remarks and let rape jokes fly like so many rocks shot from a catapult. It was only during one of their training exercises when Cora had sent more than a few of them back to the barracks with bloody noses and bruised egos that they had really started to figure out she wasn’t any old blonde chick. Apologies from various guys had come in shortly after, but they never forgot what she could do in hand-to-hand, even wearing full body armor.

                In any case, it was clear which sex the favor tended to go towards with Pahari so Cora made a mental note of it and prompted him about whether they could see their accommodations. He smiled thinly and ushered them back into central office, showing them up two flights of wooden stairs and down a long, well lit hallway. The walls were the same clear white as the exterior of the building and all the door frames were a dark wood, making stark lines everywhere Cora and Tobias looked. Cora rather liked the aesthetics of the place and found herself smiling unconsciously to herself. Tobias was just keen to get all his stuff out and organized. He overheard some conversations and he wanted to mark down notes about accents and words he’d not heard before.

                Professor Pahari handed them a key after unlocking a heavy wooden door and pushing it slightly ajar, just enough to see the presence of at least one small bed. His abrupt movements and gruff manner were enough to wipe the happy grin off of Cora’s face again as he did this. He looked at Tobias and said, “If there is anything you need to know or any assistance you require, please feel free to ask.”

                “Dhanyabad,” he said in reply and gave an honest smile. The professor, completely ignoring Cora, walked back down the corridor and out of sight.

                “He seems nice,” Cora said sarcastically. “I really hope we see more of him.”

                “Mmmm, yes. I suppose so. I do wish he’d slowed down a little bit going up the stairs, though.” Tobias wrinkled his nose a little. “Two duffle bags are a bit of a pain to carry around.”

                Cora rolled her eyes at the blatant sarcasm he’d missed and pushed the door further open to reveal the other bed, a small desk with a beaten up lamp, and some shelving units. There was a thin layer of dust on everything, but everything else seemed clean enough. The walls were the same white and the two large windows on the far wall were edged in dark wood. After setting down her suitcase and bag, the first thing Cora did was open the right-hand window which was above the bed she’d claimed as her own. The cool, clean air passed across her face lightly and her mouth twitched up in a smile.

                “You really have to keep that open?” Tobias set his bags on the floor and swung his suitcase onto his bed. “The breeze is really quite distracting.”

                She just sat back on the bed with her hands behind her head and shook her head. “You can deal with it. We’re going to be outdoors a lot in the next few months, so you may as well get used to it.”

                Tobias sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how you managed to convince me to do this.”

                “What else are you going to do with your major in Central Asian Linguistics? Sitting at home looking for work as a translator for someone you don’t know and don’t like is hardly what I call interesting.” Cora watched as he began unpacking some of his supplies.

                “I know, I know. I just never really did much outdoors-y stuff as a kid. I mean, I’ve been camping and all, but always within cell service and never without someone knowing exactly where I was at basically all times.” He pulled out a notebook and a pen and then carefully set his suitcase on the floor before taking off his shoes and lying on his stomach on the bed. He opened the notebook to the next clean page and began writing in script that Cora couldn’t read from where she was. To be fair, she probably couldn’t have read it if she were any closer.

                She let out a stream of air between her lips, letting them flap. “Well, if anything ever gets way too uncomfortable for you, we can find places to stay. There are inns and shelters and stuff in some of the places we’re going, but they’re not going to be cheap enough that we can always resort to that. Our supplies should be coming in sometime this week or early next, so we’ll be staying in the city for that time. We’re going to need to adjust to the altitude anyway.”

                Tobias nodded and kept scribbling away. After a few minutes he stopped and looked up. “Do you think I’m going to be able to do this? I mean, I know you know that I have reservations about this whole thing. I’m used to books and my computers and being in the US. I grew up in California. I was really sheltered. My parents were genuinely confused when I told them I was going to Iowa for college. Dad wanted me to stay closer to home and Mom wanted me to be able to spend more time with her. And I mean it’s not like she didn’t exactly get to see me,” he added as an aside. “I mean, she got me on weekends and for most holidays.”

                “Toby.”

                “Right. Sorry.” He continued on with his point. “I’m just… I’m normal, you know? I mean, you’ve been all over the place. You grew up in, like, three different towns, traveled all over the place when you were a kid. You went into the military and got sent off to the Middle East and you _came back_. So many people didn’t, but you did and I just am so normal. I don’t know how to play the guitar and you’ve been through a war, it’s just—how totally _inadequate_ does that make me?” He shook his head and Cora shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her tour. “Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid.”

                “No, Toby. You’re not stupid. You’re probably one of the most viciously intelligent people that I know. You’ve gotta quit worrying about the things that you haven’t done. The only reason that there are things that I’ve done that you’ve not is because I made the decision to do them. And now, you’ve made the decision to do this. You’re here. You are in another country, Toby. You flew all the way here on a plane made of metal and plastic and really bad carpeting and you’re here.” Cora slid her feet off the bed and sat up, hands on either side of her, shoulders hunched. “So why does it matter what you haven’t done? You’re going to fill in some of those gaps on this trip and if you’re not comfortable with that, then we can find a way around it. If you don’t want to spend your entire time camping in the middle of nowhere on the way to a village in the middle of nowhere, then we can find ways around that.”

                Tobias shook his head and flipped his notebook shut.  “I don’t understand how you’re so… understanding.”

                She let out a small huff of air that was almost a laugh. “You don’t think I was scared when I first got shipped overseas? My family and I knew that something was going to happen in the Middle East, but I got there before the fighting really started. I was terrified when I started hearing the gunshots at night. I’m just lucky I made it through my tour. I thank my lucky stars every day that I’m still here without more of--” She gestured to the scarring on her neck that was still covered by her blue scarf.

                Tobias stared at the scarf, lost in thought. When he came out of it he said, “So if I’m honestly terrified of being out in the middle of nowhere with just an ex-soldier and ghost stories for company, what do you suppose we should do?”

                “I think,” Cora said slowly, “That we should start getting you used to the area. What do you think about a little jaunt out into the city?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, though. I'm going to try to get stuff out faster. Try is the operative word. 
> 
> Btw, please comment anything that you find that's weird. I do my best to patch plot holes, but I'm also un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. You can also hit me up on tumblr if you don't wanna comment on here. My tumblr is [NotQuiteInsane](notquiteinsane.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far. It should start getting exciting soon.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy. Got a chapter done.  
> I'm figuring that I'll at least one out per month. I might try to squeeze a few others in, but I think I can manage at least ONE per month. And that's not, like, with a month between each chapter. That's more like... one in January, one in February, one in March, etc...  
> Sorry. I'm a terrible person.  
> Have some story.  
> Oh, also check us out at the [Hunters International website](www.huntersinternational.org) for more stories about hunters in other countries. =3 We're all trying hard to bring you writing you'll enjoy.

_Journal 3:_

_Ha! Well this has been an alright day, aside from the plane stuff._

_I dragged Toby out into the city to do some exploring. It was about 0900 when we left so we had plenty of time before our meeting with our staff advisor. We grabbed our backpacks and headed out on foot out of the university grounds. As cheap as the taxis are, I wanted to start getting used to the altitude difference._

_We headed north and ended up exactly where I wanted to be: Durbar Square. It’s the hub of tourist culture in Kathmandu, but it still overflows with the native culture that I was so dying to see. All around us, craftsmen sat around with their wares in hopes of selling to unwitting travelers, but there were also animals everywhere. Whether it was a herder leading their goats through the square on a trip to somewhere else or just a flock of pigeons pecking at the ground, there was always something somewhere. And the pagoda style temple at the center of the square was stunning._

_There are other buildings aside from the central temple, including several other smaller ones. We didn’t get a chance to venture inside (and I doubt we could have, since I believe only those of Hindu and Buddhist faith are allowed in), but they were all gorgeous. The old royal palace is also on one side of the square. They still hold the coronation ceremony there, though nobody inhabits it. It’s been converted into a museum. The rooms not on display to the public have some vague purpose that I’m not so sure of._

_After visiting the square (and convincing Tobias not to buy anything) we headed out to see what sort of breakfast we could get. We ended up sitting down at a small place about four blocks away and having naan with some kind of chutni and also momo, little steamed buns filled with vegetables. It was okay, but not the best Nepalese food I’d ever had. Then again, I’d only had Nepalese food in America so what do I know? It was filling enough and Toby scarfed it down. He got sauce on the inseam of his pants and spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe it away. He got quite a few strange looks, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him._

_After that we just walked around and looked at the houses and businesses. It was a lot of what I had expected, white washed walls, prayer flags, people working indoors and outdoors, mobile phone companies, money exchanges (we stopped at one and exchanged a couple hundred dollars’ worth of  currency), and restaurants. It’s Friday, so a lot of things are winding down for Saturday, which most people take off. There were still plenty of people walking around, kids getting underfoot. A group that we passed was kicking around a ball, playing soccer or something like that. I kinda wanted to join, but Tobias just gave me that incredulous look he’s got and we moved on. A little farther along the street I pulled him away from a musical instrument shop that he wanted to go into. It was my revenge._

_By the time we were getting tired, we had passed through Patan Dhoka and Shakhamul districts (I think that’s what they call them, though Toby couldn’t come up with a direct translation, they’re a bit like neighborhoods) and it was high time we headed back. A little sweaty from a slight jog back, we found our way to the Tribhuvan University campus and dropped our backpacks off in our room. Toby called the shower so I’m just sitting and writing this._

Cora put down the pen and looked up as Tobias came in, toweling his hair off with a shammy he’d thought to throw into his luggage. He just had a towel around his waist, but it didn’t bother Cora. The two of them were used to close physical proximity and she knew that he had no interest in her, anyway. It just wasn’t weird the way it would be for other people. He sat down on his bed across from her and yawned slightly.

“You tired, bro?” Cora grinned and threw a pillow at him. It hit his face and fell to the floor with a dull rustle. He stared at her with blank eyes before picking it up and tossing it back.

“Little bit. Didn’t sleep terribly well on the plane.”

“You could have fooled me. You were snoring like my dad.” She closed the journal and stowed it on the bedside table. “Anyway, we have that meeting with Dr. Hamal at 1500 hours. You’ve gotta wake up quick.”

“It’s what, two fifteen? We have a little bit of time.” Tobias stood up and went to his suitcase, looking for some clothes he wanted to wear.

Cora respectfully turned her head away, shifting from her back to her stomach so she could bury her face in the mattress. It smelled of old paper and unfamiliar people, but she supposed that would soon change. It did fast enough in the dorms that she’d stayed in during college. The fabric was coarse, but still a little bit soft with multiple washings.

“So what do you suppose they’ll want to talk to us about,” Tobias asked, pulling on a pair of khaki cargo pants and a plaid flannel button up, much to Cora’s chagrin.

She turned her face so that she could see him. “Probably just our plans, where we’re going and such.”

“Where _are_ we starting out, anyway?” Tobias’s brow was furrowed and he looked like he wanted to cross his arms, but he kept them neatly in his lap as he sat down on the chair next to the desk. “I feel like an idiot not knowing that, by the way.”

Cora laughed a little and propped herself up on her elbows. “That’s okay. Starting out, we’re going to head along the same path that a lot of the people going to Everest use. It shouldn’t be overly crowded this time of year because we’re away from peak climbing season, which means that inns and such should have vacancies. I’m still hoping that we camp most of the time, but if it gets too cold we can rent a space.”

“And after that?” Tobias leaned against the hard edge of the bed and put his elbows back, bracing himself as he looked over at Cora.

“That’s what I hope we can discuss with our advisor.” She let her arms crumple underneath her and flopped back down on her face. The knot of her scarf got in the way and she tried to push it aside, but it didn’t help.

Tobias sighed, got up, and walked over to his friend, lightly touching the scarf and pulling at it slightly. “You know, darling, you don’t have to keep that on all the time.”

She froze, eyes going wide, breath stopping in her chest. A phantom itch started up in her neck along the scar tissue as she thought about it, thought about letting someone, even if it was just Tobias, see her disfigurement. All the sudden, she felt dizzy and not a little bit nauseous, almost exactly the same as she’d felt standing in the bathroom cubicle of the plane earlier. It was paralyzing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tobias whispered, swiftly kneeling down next to the bed and rubbing a comforting hand over her back. “It’s okay. You’re not in Iraq. You’re not on campus. You’re not in St. Louis.”

At the mention of St. Louis, Cora stiffened further and a little whimper escaped her lips. Tobias straightened his legs out and rested his torso over her back, wriggling his arms underneath her in a hug. He could feel her muscles shaking from the effort it took to keep them tense and a wave of regret washed over him, a sick feeling entering his stomach. He shouldn’t have said anything, but now that they were in this deep…

He brought one hand up to her head and began stroking her short blonde hair, keeping the touches gentle. “It’s going to be alright, little flower. There’s nobody here to hurt you. Remember what Mom used to say when something would go wrong?”

Cora fought her way through a tangle of fear, trying to think back to when she’d visited Tobias’s mom in San Diego two summers ago. It had been cold and rainy on the day they were planning on making their trip to the beach to surf, exactly the opposite of the full sun and ninety degrees they’d been promised. The morning of the trip, Tobias’s mom had made them waffles with nutmeg and sat them down at the kitchen table. She’d said only a few words before tucking in and staying silent for the rest of the day.

“Pants on, chin up, don’t rain on your own parade,” Cora whispered before taking a deep breath in.

Tobias felt her muscles relax and the side of his mouth twitched up in relief. Dropping a small kiss on the back of her neck, he straightened back up and ran his hand through her hair a final time. “I’m sorry, flower. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

She let out the breath a little shakily, but ended up turning over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. After a few minutes of silence, Tobias standing steadily, Cora just gazing upwards, she let her eyes flicker closed and raised her hands to the sky blue fabric. Undoing the knot, she let the scarf fall away, revealing the angry red scar.

Tobias gave her an encouraging smile as her eyes opened. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

Cora nodded and tried for a smile, but it looked more sad than anything. “You must think I’m so pathetic.”

He shook his head. “Not in the slightest, darling.” Tobias took a seat on the bed next to her and held her right hand in his. “You’ve just been through a lot and it’s left you feeling hurt. I’ve got you.”

Their clasped hands brought themselves up to Cora’s forehead as she sat up, giving her an anchor. A few more moments of silence between the two passed, the only sound in the room being the ticking of Tobias’s watch on the bedside table and the traffic noises that wafted dully through the window. The steady breathing between the two was punctuated with the occasional hiccup from Cora, though Tobias pretended not to notice.

About the time that their conjoined hands were starting to get uncomfortably sweaty, Cora pulled away and nudged Tobias’s back with her knee, signaling her desire to get off of the bed and that he was in the way. He stood and she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself up so she was beside him.

“Thanks, Toby.”

“Any time, Cora.”

“Time to find Dr. Hamal.”

 

 

The two headed downstairs, Cora holding a two-inch binder full of notes detailing her travel plans within the country. They passed one man on the stairs, but he paid them no notice, keeping his dark eyes down, and left hand on the railing as Cora and Tobias passed on the left. The white of the main hall that led to the administration office was just as stark as the walls upstairs, showing that cleanliness was a quality which was well kept among the staff of the building. Tobias led her to a room marked apart by a plaque at its side that said something in Nepalese and below, in English, said “Conference Room”.  He knocked on the dark wood door and then pushed it open.

The room looked much the same as the rest of the building, dark wood framing whitewashed walls with red accents on the corners and ceilings. There were several bookshelves on the far wall that Cora guessed held dictionaries and almanacs from different eras. There was a projector attached to the ceiling and directed to a wall clear of windows on which it could throw its image. A huge mahogany table, the legs of which were carved in an intricate style, took up the majority of the room. A empty ceramic pitcher was on the far end but on this end were set out three chairs.

“Swagatam,” said a young man, standing up from his chair at the long wooden table. “You must be Mr. Venne and Miss Wrightman.” He approached them, holding out his hand.

Tobias took the lead on this one. “Namaste, and please, just call me Tobias.”

The man nodded and joined hands with him, giving them a firm shake.  “Tapaaiilaaii bhettera khushii laagyo.”

“Likewise.”

Tobias drew away and Cora moved forward, confident smile on her face, holding out a hand to shake as well. She stopped in her tracks when the man hesitated to take her hand. Cora’s grip on her white binder tightened somewhat and she good feel a prickle at the back of her neck. The shock or surprise must have showed on her face because in the next moment, the man took her hand and gave it a shake, though it was much less firm than the one he’d given Tobias. “I am Doctor Dipesh Hamal. I apologize; I am not used to a woman being so forward.”

Cora put on her best diplomacy mask and waved it off. “That’s quite alright, but I am lead on this research so I would appreciate it if we could look to find some common ground.”

Dr. Hamal returned her smile and Cora could see a genuine spark of delight in his eye as he nodded. “I think that would be for the best.” Gesturing with an open palm to the seats on the other side of the table from where he’d been seated, he said, “Please. If you would like to sit, we can begin.”

The three of them took their seats and Cora laid her binder on the table, flipping it open to a blue tab that marked the maps and papers that indicated the first leg of their journey. Dr. Hamal drew it over to himself and observed the map as Cora started to explain her proposed route, Tobias listening intently from a backwards leaning position in his seat, hands folded over his stomach. His eyes were fixed on Hamal’s face as his friend spoke.

“Our plans were originally to stick around the Kathmandu Valley region, but seeing as it’s October and the weather isn’t likely to get much warmer as the season goes on, I amended them to go a little further afield first and stay closer to Kathmandu during the winter before heading farther out when Spring comes back. The path to Mount Everest is a well-trodden one and I thought it would do us well to get used to the elevation. I know there are plenty of inns and places to stay and get supplies along there, so it made the most sense to start there.”

Dr. Hamal was nodding as she spoke and Tobias smiled internally. No matter the prescribed gender roles in Nepal, their advisor was forward thinking enough to want to work around them for their mutual benefit. Tobias had been worried initially about their acceptance into a society that was generally male run when Cora was the person to be leading the trip. He knew that she’d find a way around it, but he also worried that they’d find a time when she wouldn’t have the tools or the patience to overcome highly ingrained gender roles.

The problem with Cora was that when words didn’t get her her way, she was more inclined to use alternate, less peaceful means of persuasion. Her temper was fiery and Tobias had been on the receiving end of it once, which was one too many times for his liking. He supposed that it was a defense mechanism that had developed in her Army time, but he was hoping against hope that it wouldn’t surface during their trip. No more than was strictly necessary, anyway.

As the Cora continued to explain their route, Hamal asked the occasional question and gave advice where he deemed it necessary. As it turned out, he had grown up in the area between Lukla and Tengboche, a small town that catered mostly to the hikers and prospective climbers on their way towards Everest, so he knew the area well. He marked out a path on the satellite view map that Cora had that would show them past several smaller villages where they could stop and do their research.

After their discussion closed, Dr. Hamal sat back in his seat and mirrored Tobias’s body language, fingers laced together and resting on his belly. He looked mildly satisfied and as his dark eyes flicked between Cora and the binder, Tobias could see a look of (pride?) on his face that he supposed had to do with the more than adequate preparatory work that she’d done.

“So, Dr. Hamal,” Tobias started, sitting up in his seat.

“Please, call me Dipesh. I suppose we are to be working rather closely in the next months. That goes for you as well, Cora.” He threw a slight smile her way, white teeth flashing in stark contrast to his dark skin and hair, though his eyes were a lighter hazel color.

“Dipesh,” Tobias amended himself. “What drew you into this field of study? I mean, I expect that not every young man in Nepal is looking to become a scholar on ancient cultures. And you specialize in Tibetan, Nepalese and Indian cultures, if I’m not much mistaken.”

He nodded and leaned forward to rest his hands on the table in front of him. “Growing up in the region that I did, I got to know the people and the culture pretty well. I always enjoyed hearing stories from my parents and the parents of my friends and though I suspect many of them were simply made to scare children such as me into obedience, there were a few that I heard multiple times from people in a twenty kilometer radius of our village. I suppose I got to wondering how the same story migrated to different parts of the valley and so once my basic education was completed, I decided to turn to a further education.”

Dipesh smiled and laughed a little bit. “But just learning about the other peoples of Nepal wasn’t enough for me so I made the decision to attend the University of Calcutta to expand upon what I’d learnt. I had professors from all over. It was one of the best times of my life, however, I decided to return here in the end. Nepal is my home.”

Cora sat forward eagerly. “Do you remember any of the stories that you heard as a child? Could you tell us one?”

“Oh, certainly,” Dipesh said, smile not falling from his face. “Let me tell you the story of the Bhuta and the Pishacha.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy. I got it out in March... barely. It's nine o clock on the thirty-first for me...  
> Ahem.  
> Anyway, I got to play with a new sort of story telling style, so that was cool. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Slight warning for character death (not a major character) and description of a mildly creepy lookin' monster.
> 
> Beware.  
> Enjoy. As always, un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own. Please let me know if you find any, either in the comments or in my tumblr inbox. My URL is NotQuiteInsane.tumblr.com  
> Thanks.

                Deep in the foothills of the Himalayas, long ago when the Mongol horse lords still thought they could conquer that place, the small village of Bhulnu rested in peace. The people herded their animals, oxen and sheep mostly, on the grassy hills in the area and were at peace with their neighbors. They traded with few and kept mostly to themselves. It was a solitary existence, but they were happy.

                A boy, whose name has been long since forgotten, grew up in that town, gifted with the strength of many oxen. He was known through the entire village as the one who could help in any situation, for though his strength was extraordinary, he also knew when to be gentle and kind. He befriended the elders of the community at an early age, for his parents died when he was young from a fever that passed through their small valley. But he was happy. He learned the ways of their village and when he was old enough, took a flock of sheep for his own in order to help.

                It was his twentieth summer when a band of raiders came to the village in search of food and goods to steal. They would have passed right over Bhulnu, but they were celebrating the birth of one of the women's first son and the din of their joy echoed over the hills and into the men's camp. At first the leader of the raiding party was hesitant to order his men in that direction, for he'd never heard of any people living in that area, but as the celebrations grew louder and more exuberant, he had his men mount up and make for the sounds.

                As they rode into the village, there was little but shock and amazement on the faces of the people of Bhulnu. This was soon washed away as terror took hold. Though they had the means to defend themselves, nobody was ready for the arrival of such a force. Food was taken and homes broken into, but when the raiders reached the houses of the village elders, they found something for which they were not prepared.

                The boy who had been born with supernatural strength was tending to his friends among the elderly at the time and stood in anger as the leader of the raiders broke through the wooden door of the home that belonged to the man called Smr̥ti. The boy, now a man and known among the village as Bala, stood, anger struck across his face like a dark cloud before a storm.

                "How dare you enter this place without respect?" His voice boomed in the small space. He spoke with confidence and calm, though there was fire behind his eyes. "I demand you apologize for your actions immediately."

                But the leader of the raiders just laughed in his face and drew his sword from his side. "You speak of respect, but I am the one with the weapon, the one with the strength," he said loudly, clearly confident in his position. "I will have you respect me for that."

                Smr̥ti, who had watched this exchange from his position by the fire, shook his head. "If you are to fight, make it a show of your strength and not your brutality. Show the other that you are better and deserve the respect, or you are nothing but a coward calling himself a bear." And though he was old and frail, he spoke with a wisdom that could not be denied. The raiders who stood behind their leader nodded in agreement and seeing the consensus among his men, the leader sheathed his sword and retreated outside, stripping to his underclothes and making ready to wrestle.

                Bala followed afterwards, but looked back at Smr̥ti and found a small smile on the man's face, for everyone in the village know of Bala's strength and prowess in the art of fighting. As a child he had often wrestled with others, and though he was always stronger, he had found that there were other things that were more useful in fighting, such as wit and quick feet. So as Smr̥ti waved him through the door, Bala returned the smile and made ready to fight.

                Everyone gathered around the two, making a circle at the center of the village where the festivities had previously been taking place. All of the things for merry-making had been cleared away to make room for Bala and the leader of the raiders and when every person from the village and the group of bandits had gathered around, they began.

                The raider circled around Bala, too confident in his own victory to notice that Bala was comfortable in this movement and that his eyes were lively and saw every movement that was made. Bala feinted to the right as they drew in close and the raider went to block and so didn't see the kick come in from below. It was soft and simply put him off balance before Bala skipped back on the offensive, but the raider was alerted to his agility and took caution from this new knowledge.

                The two continued to circle, making feint after feint, neither landing a serious blow. Villagers stationed all around the fighting ring were confused. Why had Bala not already defeated the man? His strength was far superior! He could lift boulders away from the banks of the river without breaking a sweat, but he was taking his time with this outsider who had tried to hurt his people! It didn't make any sense. Murmurs went up around the crowd and the raiders, hearing some of what was said, began to become uneasy, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

                Finally, the bandit leader landed a solid blow on Bala and knocked him to the ground, coming down on top of him in an attempt to pin him to the ground. As his forearm went to the young man's neck, he shouted out, "See! Now respect is mine to be had and you will apologize for your insolence!"

                But Bala, seeing what was about to happen, brought his arms up and pushed the bandit away from him, hands extended all the way out. The man went flying backwards, landing hard on his back, shock evident across his face. Bala stood up and held out a hand. "Stand back up. We are not finished yet." But the raider was furious that he had been so easily repelled and smacked the other man's hand away, instead going to kick out his knee. Bala tensed and the kick simply bounced off of the joint with no damage done.

                "What are you?" The raider was angry, but there was also a hint of fear in his face. What was this strength? The boy he was facing seemed to not be at all fatigued and every attack simply bounced off of him as though it was made by a child. "What manner of demon are you?"

                Bala shrugged and pulled the man to his feet. "I am simply a boy with no parents. I protect those who need protection and I teach those who need to be taught."

                In a futile attempt to win the match, the raider tackled Bala to the ground and began throwing punches at his face. Only one made contact before their positions were switched and the raider was lying face down in the dirt, arms tugged up behind his back hard enough to put a strain on both his shoulders and with a knee in the small of his back.

                Bala asked, "Do you yield?"

                The raider simply spat on the ground and struggled against the hold he was in.

                "I could break your shoulders or leave you a cripple for the rest of your life, but I will not do so in front of your men." Bala let him go and stood up, watching as the man scrambled to his feet. "There is no reason why this fight should go on. Please yield and leave my village."

                The raider spat again and picked up his sword from where it lay on top of his other clothing, drawing the blade and pointing it at Bala. "I will kill you where you stand, demon." With that he swung at the man. Bala avoided the first few swipes of the sword, but the fourth cut him across the side. Clearly the raider was a far better swordsman than a wrestler, but Bala, ignoring the blood that trickled from the open wound, wrenched the sword from the man's grasp and turned it back on its owner.

                "I have given you two chances to walk away from this already with your honor mostly intact. Please take this third chance for I will not give you another."

                But burdened with the weight of the gazes all around him, the bandit leader yelled and ran at Bala, impaling himself on his own sword in his attempt at revenge.

                As his body fell to the ground, sword still protruding from his body, gasps went up from the surrounding crowds and the raiders began a retreat, leaving all of the things they'd stolen behind as their leader bled to death on the cold ground in the center of a circle of onlookers.

                In the next years, the raids on the countryside became greater in number and in force, but Bala continually kept his watch on the surrounding hills when he was out with his flock of sheep. Whenever a raiding party would come near, he would retreat back to the village and alert his people. In time, rumors circulated about the fates of all who attempted to steal from the people in that area of the hills. The horse lords who were smart enough to take Bala's offers of retreat spread their stories of the man's immense strength and his fairness in manner. Within the decade, raiders came only to bear witness and see if they could challenge him to a contest of strength. He beat them all and many a friendship was made in those contests, enough that Bhulnu had the opportunity to trade with those outside of its roaming lands.

                As time passed, the raids trickled to a stop and Bala grew old, but not before the village had grown larger with the influx of wealth and knowledge. Some new families settled the land around the area and it became a community valuing justice and mercy.

                When Bala finally died of old age, there was a month of mourning for his loss. All of the people from the surrounding countryside turned out for his funeral and as his ashes were spread to the wind, many said that they could feel Bala's presence around them, imparting a feeling of security and peace. This continued far into the future and all of the parents told their children of the brave deeds of Bala of Bhulnu. The memory of their hero passed into legend as the years passed, until all who had known him were dead and gone, spread to the wind just as he had been.

                But a particularly harsh winter left the villages in disarray. The cold and unnatural storms cut their food supply and caused famine among the people, killing many and leaving more hungry enough to begin fighting each other for scraps. It was about this time that a darkness fell across the valleys of their home. Nobody noticed it as it came so gradually, but many of the elders could feel an unnatural chill in their bones, even as the warmth of summer flooded back into the atmosphere.

                Rumors of a creature started to spread through the villages. At first it was only in the nightmares of children that the creature appeared, but slowly it crept into the nighttime visions of all people in the community until most everyone was afraid to sleep. It was said that its skin was grey as the ash that came from the bodies of the dead with burning red eyes that induced madness in even the most brave hearted. There were none that knew what to do about these nightmares, though many said that they were only a result of the harsh winter and would pass in time.

                But there were others who believed that the darkness had been brought on by the infighting and immorality that had seeped into the community during the winter. It was the children, first, that said Bala was disappointed in them and sent them nightmares to punish them, but their parents hushed them and continued to look over their shoulders in case of monsters in the night.

                The night terrors continued throughout the rest of the summer and into the fall. Winter was nearly upon them by the time one small child, no more than eight summers old decided to go to the charnel grounds to see if the spirit of Bala would talk to them and tell them what they could do to fight the nightmares.

                One peaceful night, when her parents were sleeping, the child slipped out of bed and escaped the house to start her hour long trek to the place where the villages burned their dead. Though it was cold out, the child kept walking on, feeling as though she was protected from the chill by a guardian spirit. She persevered until she reached the great fig tree on which many of the villages' prayer flags hung. Just past this was the wooden gate that led into the charnel grounds where her people prepared and burned the bodies of the dead.

                As she opened the gate, the child was struck by the sight of a hunched grey figure in the center of the open area. It turned to face her and she gasped in horror, seeing the dark grey skin and red, protuberant eyes. They looked like the eyes of blowflies that hovered around dead bodies, eating what they could in defilement of the honored dead. The skin was textured like that of a bloated corpse, shiny and mottled with sores indicating where the covering was glowing thin. Its body was a grotesquely shaped mass of flesh, only partially covered with cloth in a vague attempt to hide its appearance from the world. Dark veins protruded from its skin at random intervals, adding to the deformity.

                Even as the young girl screamed, a shape appeared in front of her, blocking her small figure from the view of the monster. "Step away from the girl, Pishacha," a voice rang out from the girl. "You have no business with her or your people and I demand that you leave."

                The girl looked up into the face of the figure and could see the stars through his ghostly visage. She gasped at the sight, but he smiled down at her benevolently.

                "Do not worry, child. I am a bhuta and mean you no harm. I seek to protect you and your people. You might know me by the name Bala. It is my duty to defend the justice of Bhulnu and it is this that I will do until the world comes to an end." With these words, the ghost of Bala swept forward towards the Pishacha.

                The monster hissed and spat at the bhuta and slashed at it with razor sharp claws, but they passed right through the immaterial figure and this Pishacha lost its balance, falling to the ground. It slithered back to its feet and lunged yet again at Bala, but again his immaterial nature kept the monster from inflicting any damage.

                Slowly, the sound of a chant began to float through the air, holy words binding the flesh-eating demon and slowing its movements to a crawl. Bala continued to speak, invoking the powers of the holy earth and sky to banish the Pishacha back to whatever hell it came from. Brightness poured from the bhuta until the entire charnel ground was illuminated by a holy light and the demon screamed into the night air, disappearing in a crackling column of fire, its ashes purified and scattered to the wind just like the bodies of the ones it fed upon.

                When the monster was finally gone, Bala turned back to the girl-child and knelt before her, ghostly hands resting comfortingly on her shoulders. "Just remember, child, that as long as your intentions remain pure and there is justice in your heart, I will always protect you and yours. Return to Bhulnu and tell everyone that there is no longer a need to fear the creature so long as they recall what I taught them in life. There is no battle that can be won with force alone. Protect those that need protection and teach those that need to be taught. Hold out your hand." The girl held out her hand. "This will show them all that you tell the truth and that I am with you." He touched her hand with a translucent finger and a small star of light appeared on her palm.

                As Bala began to fade from view, the girl fled the charnel grounds with her hand clutched to her chest. When she got back to the village, dawn was breaking and everyone had dreamed of the death of the Pishacha. When the girl showed them her palm and told the story of Bala's rescue, there were murmurs of amazement, but they believed her and commended her courage in going to ask for help all alone.

                Before the end of the day, the glowing star on her palm had faded to a simple scar, but nobody forgot the story that she told and everyone in Bhulnu and surrounding villages remembered the stories of Bala and his bravery. And just as he had protected them in life, so he protected them in death and helped them to learn that mercy could be strength and that without the community, there was nothing worth fighting for.

 

 

                As Dipesh finished his story, Cora clapped in glee and smiled widely. "You got way more interesting stories as a kid than I did."

                Tobias smiled as well and looked at their advisor with a curiosity in his eyes. "Is there any significance to the fact that the village's name, Bhulnu, means Forgotten in Nepalese?"

                "It's very much possible, though I've become so used to it being simply the name of the setting that its literal translation hardly registers to me anymore," Dipesh admitted sheepishly. "I will say that I was more interested in hearing how Bala defeated the demon when I was a child, rather than thinking of the symbology of it."

                "Understandable," Tobias muttered, sitting back in his chair and twiddling his thumbs.

                Cora looked at her watch and stood up. "Well, as enjoyable as this has been, I'd like to get that story written down before I start forgetting the details and soon after that I'm thinking that it'll be time to eat dinner." Dipesh and Tobias stood up as well and Cora held out her hand to the man. "Thank you so much for your time, Dipesh, and I hope that we will be able to exchange more stories in the upcoming months."

                The two gripped hands firmly, eyes meeting in complete understanding for the first time in the past hour.

                "I hope just the same, Cora."

                As the two Americans left the room, Dipesh Hamal sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of himself, contemplating the significance of the arrival of the two. There were many things that they were going to learn in the upcoming months and he was eager to see what a fresh set of eyes and ears would manage.


	6. Chapter Six

Cora yawned widely as she put her journal away for the night. It was their fifth night in Kathmandu and their extra supplies had just come in, meaning that they were ready to set out the next day. All of the gear was packed into sturdy, lightweight bags for easy travel. They had enough dry rations to last them for a few weeks and they knew they could buy or barter for food at stops along the road. There were enough inns and stores along the path to Mt. Everest that further food planning wasn’t going to be necessary until they decided to stray from the beaten path. There were also medical supplies and cooking gear as well as a few of Cora’s personal effects.

  
The army had drilled a few things into her during her years of active duty and personal safety was one of them. She hadn’t told Tobias, but nestled in among her things was a case of knives that she hadn’t been able to resist bringing. She had an ankle sheath that would fit a three inch blade and a few others that could go into one pocket or another. Even though they wouldn’t help if they were attacked by a wild animal of some sort, it made her feel safer to have them around. And if they were attacked by people going after their gear? Well then, they’d be in for a surprise.

Tobias had charge of the general medical supplies and most of their clothing. They had biodegradable soaps and detergents if they needed to wash any of it and there were also some things of his own that Cora had glimpsed as he packed. There were two bags full of medical supplies that looked to contain the equipment for sutures and injuries worse than cuts and scrapes. Among the bandages had been a bottle or two of what looked to be oxycodone (she remembered it from when she’d broken her collarbone in high school) and a few foil packs of antibiotics as well as a bottle labeled Zofran and another with “BNZ” sharpied on the orange plastic. Cora didn’t know what Tobias wanted or needed with anti-nausea meds and tranquilizers, but maybe they would come in handy.

Between the two of them they shared the communication and navigation equipment. They had a GPS and maps as well as long range walkie-talkies and a sat-phone for emergencies. Dipesh had given them emergency numbers to call in case of an accident and also his own number in case they ran into less drastic trouble that could be fixed with a quick conversation. They each knew their home and families’ phone numbers, so they hadn’t bothered to write them down, though the two both had identification cards in several languages and Cora wore her dog tags underneath the neckline of her t-shirt. Dipesh had given her an odd look one day when he’d seen her absentmindedly fiddling with them, but she guessed it was simply because he hadn’t known about her military past and it had surprised him.

So, all in all, it seemed like they were ready to hit the road. Their travel plans were set and their flight reservations for their quick jaunt to the beginning of the path to Base Camp were made. It was all Cora could do to keep from tapping her foot on the floor as she pushed the chair back from the desk. As interesting as she found Kathmandu, she was dying to get out into the field. Her body had adjusted to the altitude in the first two days and she was ready to test herself on some rough terrain. Without her regular workout schedule to stick to, she’d had too much energy to be sitting in one place for most of the day. She’d declined to go out with Tobias for the night (he’d wanted a look at what Kathmandu had to offer on the less traveled paths), but she was almost regretting it. It was just as she was getting ready to get up and ask someone if there was a workout facility on the premises that a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It is Dipesh,” came the smooth voice. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” she answered and the door opened to reveal the dark skinned man in a pair of cargo pants and a dark blue tee that said simply ‘Dream’ in English across the chest. “Toby isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

“On the contrary, Miss Cora, it was you that I wished to speak to.” As Cora sat on her own bed, Dipesh took a position opposite to her on Tobias’s mattress. It was odd to see him in normal clothes, as she’d only seen him in western business attire before this. He looked at home in this clothing, sitting up a little less straight, a relaxed look to his shoulders.

“Yeah? What about?”

He reached into the larger pocket on his right leg and pulled out a box, about four by eight inches and two deep. Holding it out to her he said, “I’d feel a lot better if you would take these with you on your trip.”

Cora took it from him gingerly. The box appeared to be made of finely carved wood with twisting patterns of leaves and vines, between which were small, engraved flowers. It felt heavy for its size and as she flipped the catch and opened it, she saw why. Inside were two small daggers (she didn’t want to call them knives), one with a handle wrapped in leather and a curved, strangely reflective blade, the other duller, straight and heavy. Both had engravings on their guards and blades, odd symbols that she didn’t recognize and didn’t think were Nepali. The duller one was heavy as she lifted it from its bed of blue velvet and was amazingly well balanced in her hand. Though the other one was lighter, its edge was wicked sharp, honed to perfection.

“Wow. What—why are you giving me these? I can’t take them; they must have cost a fortune.” Cora put them back in the box hastily and closed the lid, holding it back out to Dipesh. She had to school her features to keep the awe and longing hidden. “Please take them back.” But he scooted himself farther back on the bed and shook his head.

“The curved one is silver and the heavy one is pure iron. I would really feel so much better if they were in your care. They were made to be used and I am afraid I do not have much use for them here.” He clasped his hands in his lap and then continued. “They were given to me when I left home for my great journey and it only feels right to give them to you for yours. Really, I insist that you take them. They will serve you much better than they did me.” He straightened up again. “In any case, a soldier must have a suitable weapon for her environment.”

Cora started as he said the word ‘soldier’ and remembered his reaction to her dog tags. Was that why he had given her an odd look? Had he thought of the knives when he’d caught a glimpse into her past? Her fingers came up to the scar on her neck without her brain telling them to and even though all they touched was the fabric of her scarf, she remembered the mark of her time as a soldier. Something fluttered in her stomach and she brought the box back into her lap and held it there like it would protect her from the memories.

“Thank you, Dipesh.” She tried a hesitant smile. “I’m sure they will be a help.”

He nodded and stood to leave. “Oh, and there are leather sheathes for them beneath the lining of the box. We wouldn’t want anything to dull the blades unnecessarily.”

“Unnecessarily?” Cora laughed a little. “What are you expecting us to come across?”

“Oh,” he said, a faint smile tracing across his mouth. “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll find a use for them.” Without another word, he opened the door and left the room.

Cora wasn’t quite sure what to think of the exchange. Had it been a simple concern for their wellbeing, or had Dipesh meant something else with the gift of knives? Frowning, Cora opened the box again and removed both the daggers and the liner from the box, revealing two carved leather sheathes with loops for slotting a belt through. The patterns in the material were the same strange lettering that was engraved into the metal of the knives and as Cora compared them, she felt a strange sense of familiarity. For some reason she felt as though she recognized the language, but the feeling was gone as soon as it had come. Maybe she could just ask Tobias when he got back.

After sheathing the knives and placing them carefully in her pack, Cora dug out her story notebook from the front pocket and pushed in the chair at the desk. She took it back to her bed and toed her shoes off before sitting down and swinging her legs into a more comfortable position.

The pages were as worn as they always were and she had to be careful not to dislodge the loose leaf and various other unattached objects that found their home between the pages. There were so many stories in here, far more than she ever expected to pick up from the people on this trip. Six years of her life were mixed up in this notebook and opening up the pages seemed more like coming home right then than any time she’d gotten off a plane and stepped back onto US soil. It was easy to slip back into the words that she’d read to herself every night to make sure that she was still herself, still Cora who liked to throw Jell-O at her little brother, Jameson, still Cora who could ski through two or three feet of fresh powder all day long and never feel the burn, still little Cora who, as a child, had been so scared of the dark that she’d kept a flashlight and extra batteries under her pillow in case there was something waiting for her under the bed. These words were her home.

The stories had come from everywhere. People with whom she’d been deployed had so much to say, whether it was ghost stories from their home towns or just things that came to the tops of their heads after a really odd, dehydration induced dream. She’d heard stories from civilians on her jaunts into the city, sometimes delivered through a translator, sometimes in jolting English, sometimes with perfect fluency from someone who’d been born half a world away from where Cora spend her childhood. One or two had been extrapolations from sights she’d seen, overturned cars outside of burnt out buildings or beautiful mosques on the horizon that glittered with something surreal in the noon day sun.

Simply glancing at the titles of some of the stories was enough to ground Cora, to keep her from being nervous about their departure the following morning. A quick flip through the pages gave her glimpses of “The Moving Cairn” and “Fireflies” and a few lines of “Kelp, Kelpies, and Crackers” that made her smile ear to ear as she remembered the days she’d first heard those stories and copied them down. The three together covered about ten pages altogether, written front and back of each sheet of paper. The handwriting was cramped and miniscule, written with the cheap black ballpoint pen that she’d managed to keep track of until it ran out of ink halfway through the notebook.

The first story had been told to her by a woman she’d shared a few months with in Camp Ashraf, just outside of Khalis in Iraq. She’d heard it when she lived in Scotland as a kid and had retold it for Cora over a period of a few days when they’d had a couple minutes together to talk about themselves. Cora had been an attentive listener, jotting down notes as the story progressed. The woman had been a little confused, but also flattered that she’d been paid attention to in the large camp, even if it was just for a story. Cora had made a good friend that day, though they hadn’t talked much since Cora went back to the states.

The second story was one that had been translated for her by one of the camp interpreters when she’d been just inside of Baghdad. A small child who’d wandered past their perimeter had been babbling about fireflies for some reason and Cora, who’d been the first to notice the little boy, made sure to calm him and get the story as she led him back out of the camp to his frantic mother back in the street. They’d parted with smiles and Cora had written the tale down with her pen. Thinking about it now, though, she flipped back to the coffee stained pages (accident on a really late night studying during her junior year of college) and looked back through the words.

The story wasn’t actually about fireflies; it was about a house that had burnt down in the night. The only witnesses were a little girl and her twin brother. Even though nobody believed them about the sparks that had flown into the air like fireflies, they continued to tell everyone of the creature they’d seen emerging from the flames. Eventually, the children started running towards the buildings that caught on fire, instead of away, in hopes that they could see the creature again and get proof that they hadn’t been lying, which was the belief of all the adults they’d told. At the eighth fire they witnessed, they were swallowed by a tongue of flame and never seen again.

As Cora read through the words, she frowned. She remembered being upset that the little boy who’d wandered into the camp had been so distressed in the first place, but even more so that he’d been telling such an unhappy story. Most of the tales she had between the pages of that notebook had happy endings, but then again, didn’t every happy ending need something else to balance it out? At the same time, she was reminded of something she’d seen on the internet, that if a story didn’t have a happy ending, it wasn’t truly the end and one had to keep reading.  
Cora wondered whether “Fireflies” had more to it than what she’d heard before giving the little boy back to his mother.

But at that moment, the door to the room opened again and she was snapped out of her reverie. Tobias looked at her with amusement when he found her on her feet, facing the door in a defensive position.

“You been reading horror novels again?” He plunked himself down on the bed opposite to hers as she relaxed.

She shrugged. “You just startled me is all.”

Silence.

“Oh, yeah. How was—“ Cora waved her hands about, notebook laying forgotten on the bedspread, “—whatever it was that you were doing?”

Tobias grinned and fell back onto the bed, letting his shoes slip off, laces already loosened. “Oh, it was great. Grabbed a drink at a little corner place and then took a walk around town. There are a fair amount of people out late that are more than a little talkative.” He laced his fingers behind his head, the grin sliding off of his face in favor of a sly smile. “Found a few cuties willing to talk to me.”

Cora raised an eyebrow. “You’re out of your shell, a bit, Toby.”

He crinkled his nose, the small smile turning into a slight grimace. “Did I say a drink? I meant a few.”

Cora’s jaw dropped in mock horror and surprise as she put her hands on her hips. “Tobias Benjamin Venne, are you drunk?”

Tobias laughed and shook his head. “Just a little tipsy, I swear. Anyway, you know I don’t get hung-over and I’m a happy drunk.”

“I know. That’s how we met, remember?” She smiled as she said it and leaned over to close her story notebook before putting it carefully back in her pack. Quickly and efficiently she stripped and folded her clothes, changing into a pair of soft pants and an old t-shirt. She left to go brush her teeth and wash her face in the bathroom down the hall, but when she got back, Tobias was already passed out in bed, fully dressed and snoring softly.

“That’s attractive,” she muttered. It took a bit of manhandling, but she managed to get his jeans off and his sleeping pants on. A little more pushing and she got him on his side and under the sheets. The night was going to get cold and it was too stuffy inside to not leave the window open. When she was all done doing that, she sat back and admired her work. Tobias’s hair was a little rumpled, but whatever, he could deal with it in the morning. His breath was unforgivable.

 

The next morning was a rush, full of moving people and double checks for gear and appropriate papers in case they had reason to cross any borders, however unlikely that was. Dipesh made sure to shake both of their hands and gave a meaningful look at Cora, who nodded. She’d packed the daggers. His shoulders relaxed, but for the life of her, Cora still couldn’t figure out why they meant so much to him. Surely he would have preferred to hold onto them instead of giving them to two people going out on a very probably harmless expedition, right? And she hadn’t had time to ask Tobias if he knew what the markings on the blades were. Cora frowned to herself, but let the bustle of preparations sweep her and the thoughts away.

They took a taxi to KTM airport to catch their charter flight. Both were wearing hiking shoes and comfortable clothing. They weren’t going to be taking the path quite as fast as many of the people who headed for base camp, but it was still going to be a tiring trek, especially with how heavy their packs had gotten after the delivery of all the rest of their gear.

The tiny plane was waiting for them on the runway after they’d confirmed their arrival with the people at the desk, irritable from the sudden heatwave that had caught the city in the past few days. Temperatures had soared to the high eighties which, whilst not being as hot as it could have been, was still enough to make their shirts stick to their backs and make the straps of their backpacks seem even heavier than they should have been. It was a relief when they finally dumped them on the tarmac and let the airport employees haul them into the carrying compartment of the eight-seater plane. They took their seats and Tobias listened to their pilot give them a few instructions in Nepali before translating the gist of it to Cora.

They buckled up and listened to the sound of the engine warming up.

“Are you sure this is safe, Cora?” Tobias’s voice was just loud enough to be heard over the insistent thrum encroaching in on them from either side.

She swatted a fly away from her face and grimaced at her friend. “Look, nearly every person who wants to climb Everest has got to ride in one of these things and the pilots are really experienced.”

“That’s not a reassurance. Accidents happen!”

“Yeah, and you could also trip down the stairs at your mom’s house and die, but that doesn’t really happen either even though you walk down those more often than you ride in a plane.” She raised an eyebrow. “You catch my drift?”

Tobias sighed loudly and dramatically, but Cora could still see his fear in the tight set of his jaw and the way his eyes darted to the exits when they were closed. Three more people had boarded the little plane, two Brits and a Nepalese man who seemed to be a friend of the pilot. He sat in the other seat at the front of the cabin and the British couple were behind Cora and Tobias, leaving the two seats in the back empty of passengers. The instructions were repeated, but Tobias didn’t bother to translate again, instead preferring to gaze out of the window, his chin propped on his hand. Cora put a comforting hand on his knee and smiled when he looked over at her.

“It’s fine,” she mouthed at him. He nodded once and looked back out of the window. He was still white knuckling it as the plane took off and flew towards the mountain range on the horizon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So Hunters International is basically dead. Just so y'all know. I'm gonna keep writing this (probably) but it's not gonna be promoted by them.
> 
> If you like it, leave a comment, share it, whatever. Hit me up on tumblr notquiteinsane.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm around. I'm chatty.


End file.
